Stained
by BTL
Summary: A dark story of obsession, but who's obsessed - and who's their target?


"Stained"  
  
A Daria Fanfiction  
  
by THM  
  
She's so delicate like this.  
  
Lying there. So quiet. Calm. At peace. She's resting  
  
right now; she needs it, what with all that's been going on,  
  
and the aftermath.  
  
I think that my revelation to her tired her out the  
  
most. Of course, it did quite a number on me, too. What got  
  
said isn't the kind of thing that any person just shrugs off.  
  
But there's more to say - I'm nowhere near finished yet, and I  
  
don't think she is, either. That's cool; we're alone here,  
  
totally alone - I don't know if people are searching for us  
  
or not, but where we are, there's all the time in the world.  
  
I don't come here often (so nobody would follow), and I've  
  
never taken anyone up here with me (so nobody would squeal).  
  
Until now. Until her. She's special - no, not good  
  
enough. She's spectacular! Even that's not close, but it'll  
  
have to do - it's the best I can do, anyway. She'll appreciate  
  
the effort, I know she will. Right now, I want to go to her,  
  
take one of her precious hands in both of mine, wake her up,  
  
and tell her I've found such a wonderful word to describe  
  
her - but she can't be disturbed. She's resting, so  
  
peaceful...it would be a crime to wake her up.  
  
Strange. I look at her resting there, and the thing is,  
  
the suddenness of it all hits me; this wouldn't have  
  
happened (before), maybe not even last week. We've taken  
  
such strides together, she and I, and so quickly. Such a  
  
long time in coming; but I am so grateful that the time  
  
has finally come.  
  
I wouldn't be able to tell now, when I first  
  
realised what it was that I felt; I mean, does anyone  
  
remember the first time that they opened their eyes?  
  
No; all that sticks around is the feeling of the wonderful  
  
light, so bright it hurts but it feels so good, as it bathes  
  
you in joy. All I remember is the joy, when I looked at  
  
her, and my eyes opened, really opened.  
  
I think my heart might even have stopped. Just for a  
  
beat or two. We were at her house, talking about,  
  
something, (I have no clue what now), and when I looked into  
  
her eyes as she walked into the room, it hit me - hard.  
  
Then life started again, and the moment passed. We  
  
talked some more, maybe watched some TV, and I went  
  
home. Everything back to normal, right? Like hell. No  
  
such thing, not in our lives.  
  
No going back now. That's one sure thing I know out  
  
of all of this - there is no way to undo what's  
  
happened. And that scares me, you know? Things could  
  
get so ugly over this, so many people could get the  
  
wrong idea...I look at her, that glorious face, those  
  
eyes, even if they're hidden right now, and a sense of  
  
peace comes over me. We'll get through this, she and I;  
  
we've faced tough situations before, after all; she in  
  
her way, and I in mine. And we survived those. This won't  
  
be any different - I can feel it. She'll guide me through.  
  
******************  
  
I didn't really want to, but I had to go back into  
  
town. Lawndale is such a hole; I walked around, and I  
  
wondered how I ever thought it could be home. I'd never  
  
really liked it all that much, and now that I knew my real  
  
feelings, what little liking I had was gone. If I didn't  
  
need supplies (and some money), this place would be a  
  
spot on a rear-view mirror, I swear. Small town, small  
  
minds, small people - no wonder this burg's biggest  
  
attraction is a giant piece of fruit.  
  
They were looking at me the entire time, too. At  
  
the cash machine, in the parking lot, all around the  
  
supermarket...so many pairs of eyes. Prying eyes. Nosy  
  
eyes. Hateful eyes. Didn't matter what colour they were,  
  
they were all the same: they followed me, and they made  
  
me feel uneasy - like I was dirty or something. I had some  
  
spot, some stain, only I couldn't see it. It was creepy,  
  
like they could see through me, even though I was in  
  
disguise, so I knew nobody could tell it was me. But I did  
  
it, 'cause she needed it.  
  
I'd do a lot of creepy stuff for her. I'd do a lot  
  
of stuff for her, period. I'm devoted to her, though not on  
  
a level that Joey, Jeffy, and what's-his-name (Jameel?) show  
  
for Quinn. That's 'stupid' devotion; she leads them around  
  
like dogs on a leash, but they still beg for treats. Mine  
  
is 'smart' - she's my world, and I'd do anything, but I'd  
  
at least think about some of the stuff I'm asked to do  
  
first! If she didn't mind, of course.  
  
It seems like that's the way it's always been with  
  
her, really; she takes the lead, and I follow. At first  
  
I was kinda resentful - what the hell did she know that  
  
was so special anyway? I mean, sure, she could handle  
  
people, situations, so well...like it was so easy for her -  
  
too easy, almost. So what was so cool about that? Dumb  
  
questions, really, and over time, I got to see how wrong I  
  
was to think that way.  
  
I think she's starting to move...no, just the wind  
  
in her hair. I carefully brush it back into place. I love  
  
the way her hair moves when she walks, almost like a  
  
living thing. How she does it I don't know, but I love  
  
it all the same. I wish my hair was like it, I've gone  
  
looking for dye, rollers, whatever, to change it; I just  
  
can't do it - it would've been blasphemy, not  
  
flattery, if I'd tried. Plus, it would've given away how I  
  
really felt before I was ready to tell her - I needed it to  
  
be just right when I did, or else I'd lose the moment  
  
forever.  
  
I thought about that moment for so long, played it  
  
out over and over in my head, so often that I almost  
  
didn't do it for real; the fantasy became my own  
  
romantic movie, a way of keeping me going when things  
  
seemed like they were never going to happen, or a  
  
pick-me-up at the end of a hard day. I was content to  
  
plan it out, all the possibilities...doing it for real  
  
was just too scary - what if she said no? What if she  
  
called the cops? If she walked away, told the whole school,  
  
threatened to sue, started hitting me - I have to  
  
calm down. She'll wake up soon, and she'll be  
  
cranky. And I love her, but she's not the nicest person  
  
when she's cranky - to be honest, she can be a real bitch.  
  
I'll let her sleep for a little while longer, but not too  
  
long - I think I heard sirens a minute ago. It wouldn't look  
  
good if she was still asleep when the cops showed up;  
  
someone would get the wrong idea. And that's the last thing  
  
I want. That's why it took me so long to get to this point.  
  
All those times in the halls, going into or coming out of  
  
classes, at lunch...all those were chances, too; ones that I let  
  
slip. She was there, so often like that, and what did I do? I  
  
hid; behind walls, doors, people, whatever was around. Hell, I  
  
even once got trapped in a freakn' stall in the bathroom! It  
  
was pathetic, what I did to avoid her - just the fear taking  
  
control again. I let that crap, fear, self-doubt, whatever,  
  
kick me around for way too damn long; with her, and with other  
  
stuff, too. It was always easier to believe I couldn't and  
  
walk away, than to try and be humiliated. That's why I  
  
'planned' it for so long; I'd almost get the nerve to do it,  
  
after I'd worked it through in my head, but some weaselly little  
  
doubt would pop up, and it'd be back to the damn drawing board  
  
again.  
  
Then he showed up. That bastard took her away from me,  
  
didn't even ask! Suddenly, she didn't have any time for  
  
anyone - the two of them were friggn' glued together, it  
  
seemed like. Now it was impossible to talk to her - I mean,  
  
how the hell do you bare your soul to the one you love  
  
with some guy around all the damn time? Huh? Pull a Quinn,  
  
and get them to keep fetching you sodas and whatever? You'd  
  
end up getting diabetes in no time flat.  
  
Things were getting out of control. So I made a decision. I  
  
had to tell her; no more screwing around, delaying things. I'd  
  
tell her the truth, and then she'd see, she'd see that he could  
  
never care for her, look after or love her, the way I knew I  
  
could. And she'd leave him.  
  
I was kinda harder than I thought; Lawndale High may  
  
just be a high school, but it seems to get about a hundred times  
  
bigger when you're looking for somebody. At least, when I'm  
  
looking for somebody. Whatever. Anyhow, it took longer than I  
  
thought to find her. We're destined to be together, really,  
  
it's just that...  
  
Now don't laugh.  
  
It's just that I don't know that much about  
  
her, the places she goes and stuff. I watch her, of course,  
  
but sometimes the distance between us is pretty big. And  
  
maybe some of the times where she's helped me out have  
  
been like that too, but c'mon, people take advice and  
  
stuff from TV all the time, and that's normal, right?  
  
So we never really talked all that much, never hung out  
  
really; my feelings for her are real, and anybody that  
  
thinks I'm faking it, well, they can go straight to  
  
hell.  
  
So I eventually caught up with her, after what  
  
felt like a million years. She was at her locker - I  
  
know where that is and all, but I was so nervous about  
  
this, I kinda took the long way 'round. She was talking  
  
to someone, and just for a second I was tempted to  
  
leave. Then I caught was she was saying.  
  
She and this guy were going on a date, but not just  
  
any kind of date; he was gonna take her to C'est La Ville,  
  
the most romantic restaurant in this whole stupid town. Then,  
  
they were gonna go and stargaze, for cryn' out loud! Just  
  
the two of them, alone together...  
  
No. This could NOT happen. I've been on dates like that,  
  
and I know what happens at the end of them - and if it did,  
  
she might never listen to me. And if that happened, I  
  
might as well be dead, 'cause that's how I'd feel.  
  
****************  
  
She'd be proud of the planning I put in with so  
  
little time; I mean, it took a little time to get over  
  
the shock, but after that, I was thinking like I never  
  
had before. I don't remember how I got home, but when I  
  
did the plan was set. I'd get her to see how wrong that  
  
guy was for her; he'd never be this dedicated for  
  
someone he cared for, and when she heard how real  
  
my feelings were, she'd drop him in a second.  
  
I'd meet up with them after dinner; I didn't want  
  
to make a scene at C'est La Ville - we might want to  
  
go there sometime. Thankfully, Mom and Dad don't know  
  
I can drive; it's not like they ever use the station  
  
wagon that much anyway, and who would think to keep  
  
an eye on a car like that when you're on a hot date?  
  
Sandi was right; driving really is a useful social  
  
skill.  
  
They took a long time in the restaurant; in a  
  
way, I'm glad I didn't have a clear view of them - I'm  
  
sure he was pawing at her the whole time. Of course,  
  
not seeing them meant I ended up imagining stuff like  
  
that ANYWAY...I was so glad when they finally came out  
  
again.  
  
I've been to the place they went before, lots of  
  
times, but it felt like a much longer trip this time  
  
'round. I was so nervous (and excited, too) I nearly  
  
lost them. When we got there, I was stuck for a  
  
second; I'd been thinking so much about what I was  
  
gonna say to her when we got face to face, I'd forgotten  
  
how I'd get the scene to start. I didn't want to hurt  
  
anyone, I mean, I can't fight worth for anything  
  
anyway. My words were my only hope - I would just have  
  
to confront her with them, and hope she listened to  
  
them. I practiced what I was gonna say and I walked over  
  
to where I'd seen them settle down to 'watch the stars':  
  
"I never told you this before, but..." - nah; "We have to  
  
talk..." - uh-uh; "I love you..." - God no. I mean, where  
  
do you go from there?  
  
That's how it happened - my walking into them, I  
  
mean. I was concentrating so much on what I was gonna say,  
  
I practically walked right over them! So of course they're  
  
gonna look surprised - if it was me, I know I would.  
  
I blame myself for the hand up her shirt - that was  
  
my fault, for not confessing to her earlier, for letting  
  
her see this guy, and for waiting for so damn long before  
  
I got out of the damn car. That was what started it - when  
  
I saw that, it was like my brain went out the window; all the  
  
words I'd practiced just went "poof!". I just stood there for  
  
a second, in shock I think. Then there was the look on his  
  
face, after the surprise wore off - he was angry. At me!  
  
Of all the nerve, actually daring to get mad at me for  
  
interrupting something that she wasn't even enjoying  
  
anyway! And the words he used...  
  
I didn't mean to react that way, but I couldn't just  
  
take that crap lying down. I started throwing words back at  
  
him; what did he know about rudeness, about lack of  
  
consideration - the bastard had taken her away, the one  
  
person in this whole screwed-up world I loved -  
  
Oh no.  
  
I'd said it. In the middle of a screaming  
  
fight with some guy, I'd said it.  
  
For a moment, it was so quiet you could hear the  
  
crickets. All thought, all everything, stopped; I looked  
  
at her face, for a sign, a clue, for anything.  
  
He made her do it; I'm sure of it. He made a stupid  
  
face behind my back, or gave me bunny ears or stuck out  
  
his tongue...She never would have, if he hadn't made her  
  
do it. I don't care if she started before him, it was  
  
his fault! And I always thought it was supposed to be  
  
good for you.  
  
After...well, it's still mostly a blur. I guess I  
  
should be sorry about it - I wasn't myself, after all,  
  
and I didn't mean to hit him, even if the bastard  
  
deserved it. I just went a little - my feelings were  
  
in control, not me, she knows that. I would  
  
never raise a finger against her most of the time,  
  
I just...I was angry, I guess. And then it just spiralled...  
  
And she...she looked so scared - didn't she know I  
  
could never...and the scream...  
  
I close my eyes, and I can still hear it, still see  
  
the look on her face. But I had to do it; we're meant  
  
to be together, I know it. We'll get over this hurdle,  
  
and be happy. She'll thank me for it when she wakes up.  
  
And so here we are; taking a break before Round 2, I  
  
guess you could say. It's been almost a day and a half  
  
since the argument. We're both really tired - I want to  
  
sleep too, but if I did, she'd be disturbed and then she'd  
  
be cranky, and she won't listen and we'll just get tired  
  
out being mad at each other. I can't go through that  
  
again; so I let her rest, and I look after her,  
  
waiting...  
  
Don't worry Daria; I may be a lot of things, but there's  
  
one I know I'm not.  
  
Stacy Rowe is never disloyal.  
  
FINIS.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
This was initially submitted to "Iron Chef: Mike's Top Ten, 15/09/03, in answer to point #5 of "The Top Ten Things that never happen in Daria fanfics"; "5: A female character reveals herself to be a lesbian and confesses her love to the object of her desire, who reacts with disgust and vehement rejection." I'd written the story some time before, but hadn't had the confidence to post it; so my first thanks is to Mike Yamalkowski for coming up with the IC challenge, and giving me a much-needed kick in the a$$. Also, thanks to everyone who read it and liked it at the PPMB, and to CB, my beta-reader on this - thanks for finding that horrific spelling mistake. :P 


End file.
